There be a load o' ash on the poop deck. If h'appeared owt o' nowear. Wot be moor surprisin, there be men wearin' strannge old fashyoned flannels fightin' ter sweep it up.

Grand Deducer Watson of Sherlock. NoName, no pack drill. Astral zone changed five times a day (flexible). Great at manifesting parking spaces by thought control. Hatred of terminology of survivors and commitment to win-win reality.

There be rumours flyin' round the fleet that Black Bart is hidin' out in the Bermuda Triangle to avoid a harmless sweet little boy sailor. If this be true, he'll have ter cum out sometime to refuel his nucllear powered ship (I told 'im not to buy that model). Otherwise, all calm here, sea bright blue and seaweed stinks, jest as we like it.

Grand Deducer Watson of Sherlock. NoName, no pack drill. Astral zone changed five times a day (flexible). Great at manifesting parking spaces by thought control. Hatred of terminology of survivors and commitment to win-win reality.

Went to me letter box, hecpectin' to get a letter outlinin' that me vast peerage of a Caribbean Estate had been settled.

When Oi opened me letterbox Oi spied a letter, which Oi opened immediately. However as Oi cracked the wax seal, the entire document vanished before me eyes.

While I had cut back on the grog of late, those special mushrooms that Oi've bin eatin at Big Rons Family restaurant chain, may have sumthin extremely magic about em. Oi thinks Oi'll be givin' the 'special dishes' a miss for a while.

The SS 'Demis Rousos' has been sunk after ingesting' way too much food stores in it's bilge. Anything' that big was bound not to float in the open sea, and should have ejected it's ballast long ago. Instead the ballast destroyed Demis's inner hull - poor blighter!

I went sailin' 'round n' a ol' ship I found. Been sailin' in teh' areer' of Ol' Portsmouth, trying teh' see if ere' be any survivers te' form a crew with. I 'ears te' place twas' mostly abandoned now, but teh' thought at' no one may com'er anymore nary d' cross me mind. I be open' te' finds a few scallywags at d' least.

"Sonny, did we land or did we get shot down?"- my grandmother to an airline pilot.Pasta is not "an" art, it is the art. Any Italian(whom I think are second only to pirates, though that is not my call to make) can attest to that. It is unfortunate that a vast majority of them have forsaken His Noodlyness whom gave them His Saucy Knowledge of how to make great pasta in the first place.May you be forever touched by His Noodly ApendageGlob blessR'amen

*WARNING* SUDDEN, UNEXPECTED RANDOMNESS WILL OCCUR IN THE VICINITY OF THIS PERSON.